


The 2.65 Percent Chance.

by orphan_account



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Drabble, Gen, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Season/Series 03
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-10
Updated: 2017-08-10
Packaged: 2018-12-13 19:39:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 402
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11766951
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: There is a several percent chance that this will go terribly! But of course, that isn't always true. And it's hard enough to know that there's a better version of you out there somewhere.





	The 2.65 Percent Chance.

 

                It’s a joke, obviously. They tell him about it with a smile, because it proves his theory – alternate universes are _real –_ and it’s all in good humour.

                “And the other Slav is so _badass,_ ” Lance starts in. “Like, he was so ready to _fight,_ man!”

                He nods. “I see, I see!”

                The conversation goes on like that. He doesn’t say anything. There’s nothing to say. They don’t need to know that he can’t touch guns without every single one of his arms freezing up. They don’t need to know that he would blow up every Galra ship without hesitation, if loud noises didn’t make him think about the sound of his own screams echoing back at him.

                He returns to his project, rewiring the Galran communicator to hack into Lotor’s systems. Before long, the paladins vanish back into the depths of the Castle, still talking about the alternate universe and all the cool things they saw there. They’re young, Slav knows; some of them understand better than others, but they’re fresh-faced and innocent. They’ve never been tortured. If he has it his way, they never will be.

                “Slav.”

                He starts. There’s still somebody in the room. “Shiro! Yes, I’m – I’m almost done this – I mean, there’s an approximately 75% chance that this pinpoints our location and screws us over-“

                “Don’t worry. I’ve got a plan for if that happens.”

                “You do?”

                Shiro nods. Slav takes in the shape of his eyes, the uncertainty of his movements, the new, quiet way he moves. Like a cat. Slav takes in the way he glances around, as if he’s not quite sure how he got here.

                In an alternate universe, somewhere, there’s a Slav who was never tortured, who has the bravery to fight the Galra empire directly instead of while hiding behind a group of children. Slav wonders which universe this Shiro is from – and if somebody is missing him.

                Slav pats him on the shoulder.

                “What’s that for?”

                “Oh, for the 67.5% chance that you’re actually a clone sent to destroy us all and doom us to inevitable failure.”

                Shiro blinks. “Yep, cool. Alright.” He gets up and dusts off his trousers. “I’m getting you away from that before you stress yourself into a hole.”

                “Wha-?” And then he’s being dragged away to the kitchens.

                Slav supposes there’s a chance that this new Shiro is completely harmless. About 2.65%, all told.


End file.
